Don't Stand So Close To Me
by Grand-Illusion
Summary: Snape is convinced teacher-student relationships are wrong. So what lengths will he go to in order to make himself stop being so attracted to a student? Rating will increase.
1. Prologue

**Don't Stand So Close To Me**

**Prologue**

"No!" Snape screamed, sitting up in bed suddenly. He breathed heavily, drenched in a cold sweat. The sheets were twisted around him, keeping him from being able to move freely. Maybe that was why he felt so panicked. He took a deep breath and moaned, collapsing back into bed. Being an insomniac has its good points, he reflected. I've become the world expert on sleeping potions.

He forced himself to climb out of bed and check the clock. 4:17. Cursing, he conjured a cup of coffee. He knew from experience that it wasn't worth the work to make a potion for two more hours of sleep. He sat on the velvet window seat and gazed out the window. It was just barely light outside, and he could see it had been raining.

Most people thought he lived in the dungeons. Perhaps he belonged there. But he couldn't live in a place without windows. Not after what had happened to him. Even teaching in the dungeons was hard – not that he would ever admit it to anyone.

Maybe he should just give it up. Stop teaching. Go relax at his family's summer home.

'Recovery', Albus had called it.

'Giving up,' Snape had shot back.

He was too stubborn. That was one fault of his that he readily admitted. But still, years of being taught not to show any weakness weren't soon forgotten. Snape sighed and pressed his forehead against the chilly window, drained. He was so tired...

Two hours later, Snape awoke with a start. He groaned. Sleeping in that position was not particularly comfortable. Bloody hell, now his coffee was cold. Snape sighed again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Glancing out the window, he did a double-take. Several people were outside in the morning chill, practicing quidditch and apparently having fun, from the antics he saw. For some reason, he felt almost content as he watched them below. It looked like Potter and his friends. Looking closer, he could make out the form of Hermione Granger as she hexed someone. He or she fell to the ground laughing, apparently the victim of a well-performed spell. Snape let a small smile creep onto his lips. She was a brilliant witch. Not that he would ever admit that.

A/N – Well, kiddos, I hope you like this story. It's kind of a songfic. But not really. Well, sort of. I just don't like calling it that because honestly....there's a lot of really bad songfics out there. There's a lot of really bad fanfics, period. So in order to not have this one join the ranks of the Cringe-Inducing, please critique. A lot. Mercilessly. :) I don't know how regularly I'll be able to update, but nag and it'll probably happen. XOXO!


	2. Of Potions and TShirts

**Don't Stand So Close To Me**

**Chapter One**

**Of Potions and T-shirts**

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Snape smirked as he felt glares directed his way. It really wasn't his fault none of them could make a decent Soundproof Serum. God knows it was a useful thing to know how to make. He swept through the dungeon arrogantly. It was a skill he had perfected unknowingly, after watching his father do it for years. Occasionally, he caught a glance of himself and thought with disgust how much of his looks he had inherited from his parents. He had his mother's black hair and blue-black eyes, and his father...well, his father's nose. _Yet another reason for me to hate him_, Snape thought, only half-joking. He really did hate his nose.

He wouldn't admit that to anyone, either.

"Professor!" a voice in the back called. He scowled and turned, being greeted by yet another Longbottom potion. Which is to say that it was attacking everyone who came near it, shooting green droplets at them. From the yells, it seemed the potion was slightly painful. Snape snickered and took his time strolling across the room. The potion did not seem to have that bad of side effects, and it might just teach the students a lesson. Hermione, however, was frowning intently, and muttering under her breath as she tossed something into the potion. To Snape's amazement, the potion slowly calmed down and started humming cheerfully.

"Brilliant, Hermione!" the Finnigan boy started clapping, and the rest of the Gryffindors followed suit as Hermione blushed furiously.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for performing a charm and making a potion in my class when you were not instructed to! And ten for managing to foul up a potion that badly, Longbottom!" Snape barked angrily. Hermione grinned at him, and he floundered for a response. Bloody irritating, it was. He scowled, and was saved from forming a response as the bell rang.

"Get out!" Snape snarled in Hermione's direction. She smiled again at the Potions Profesor as she left, self-satisfaction making her glow.

Snape stood there for a few minutes, muttering under his breath. It was bad enough that she was an amazing witch, but did she have to have that gorgeous smile?

_What?!_ Snape checked and double-checked what he had just thought. What was wrong with him? _Maybe I should start brewing those Dreamless Sleep Potions a little stronger, because lack of sleep is obviously affecting my mind_, he thought disgustedly. He growled in frustration and cursed to himself.

And now that damn potion was trying to give him a hug.

-------------------------

Snape stalked down the hall, irritation making his countenance even more unpleasant than normal. Suddenly, he stopped.

_Wait a minute, why am I in such a bad mood?_ he thought in frustration. Merlin, it was that Granger chit. Why was she so damn irritating? He stepped into his quarters and was greeted by a sight that did not make him any more pleasant.

"Yes, Albus?" he said shortly.

"Good afternoon, Severus!" Dumbledore said, beaming. "I just wanted to let you know that the potion you made for me was most helpful. Thank you."

Snape raised an eyebrow. Since when did Albus make an special trip to thank him for something?

"If that will be all, Albus, I believe I shall retire." Snape said smoothly. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Well, actually, Severus," Albus began, "Several people think that you deserve a..." here he hesitated.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "A _what_, Albus?" he snapped.

"A good vacation," the Headmaster finished. "And I," he said loudly when Snape opened his mouth, "happen to agree with them!"

"You work too hard," Dumbledore said severely, peering at Snape over his half-moon glasses. Snape glared at him.

"I do not need a vacation!" he hissed. "I am fine!" his eyes narrowed further. "Molly put you up to this, didn't she?" he growled low in his throat. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again.

"I just thought I'd at least mention it to you," he said merrily, "though I told her you wouldn't take to it. But the offer's there, Severus, should you ever care to take me up on it!" With that, he hopped back into the fireplace.

Was it his imagination, or had the old bat looked smug after that last comment? Snape dismissed it from his mind. It wasn't as though he was going to take a bloody vacation anyway.

He crossed the room and sat down at his desk. It was lovely, one of the few gifts he had ever received that he truly appreciated. He didn't much like most of the gifts he had gotten in the past. But then, he supposed he was difficult to buy for. It was made of a lovely wood that grew in only one place in the world. Had he been poetic, he may have called it a deep chocolate color with creamy swirls. But he wasn't, so it was brown.

But a very nice brown.

As he sat, his latest research rose up onto the desk from wherever it had been, along with a quill and a bottle of his favorite ink – black with small flecks of green and silver. He wasn't exactly school spirited, but he _did_ like Slytherin colors.

A few hours later, he was again sitting at his window. He just couldn't concentrate today! So instead, Snape sat and watched the students outside again. And –bloody hell – it was Granger and her friends again. This time they were having a water fight, siphoning water from the lake as ammunition. They looked soaked, and had tossed their school robes in a heap under a tree. He scowled and contemplated yelling at them from his window – then decided against it. Instead, he took the passage from his room down to the entrance hall and stalked out onto the grounds.

"POTTER! WEASLEY!" he shouted in anger. "Ten points for inappropriate conduct and not complying with the dress code!" The effect was somewhat ruined, because they hadn't heard him in time – a blast of lake water hit him right in the face.

Potter and Weasley stood frozen on the spot, resembling two statues, mouths hanging open. Behind, him, though, he heard a gasp. Or was it a snicker? He wheeled around, sputtering, and saw none other than Granger. She was soaked, too, and like the rest of them, not in her robes. But he noticed with dismay that she happened to be wearing a white shirt.

And he could see right through it. Shocked, he saw, from the way it clung to her, something that was less apparent when she was wearing robes. She was...she was...

Attractive, his body concluded for him. He swallowed hard and shook himself. The three students were now looking at him curiously, wondering whether they were going to get off easy. He heard Hermione whisper something, and the pile of robes flew into her hands. He shook himself again.

"Get to your dormitories!" he snarled, and his three students scrambled. He watched them go, realizing too late that he was watching Granger's receding form. Cursing, he followed them back up to the castle, stomping in irritation.

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I've decided, as with my other fic, to write short chapters often instead of long chapters occasionally. Also, please critique! Be cruel! Well, not really. But, um, DO tell me what I do wrong, since I don't use a beta. :) Love you guys! Thanks to Madelynn Rae for the encouragement and yoggle, who apparently has excellent taste in music.

OH! And I found out that there's, like, fifty other fics of the same name. So...think I should change the title? XOXO


	3. In Which Several Interesting Things Come...

**Don't Stand So Close To Me**

**Chapter 2**

**In Which Several Interesting Things Come Up**

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The beaker smashed into the wall with a satisfying crash and the tiny shards of glass tinkled to the floor, taking some of Snape's frustration with them.

But not much.

He snatched up another one and hurled it at the exact same spot on the wall. Dispassionately, he noticed that his aim was improving. As well it should be, considering that, from the amount of glass on the floor, he had destroyed at least five of them so far. Now, Snape was not usually a destructive person. He disliked breaking things, and wasn't fond of messes. But as of right now, he had no idea what else to do.

Damn her. Damn her, damn her, damn her.

No, not really. It wasn't her fault, after all. She cheerfully went about her Know-it-all ways, not noticing him. Except when he assigned extra homework.

Damn!

He peered into his mirror in weary interest. Was there anything attractive there?

No, he concluded. Liquid, inky eyes that were much too narrow. Sallow skin from being inside too much. Perhaps if he were a bit more cheerful, it could be called 'a lovely pale color'

Snape snorted. Cheerful. Yeah, right.

Dark hair that always looked greasy. His body was alright. He was skinny by nature, and had that slight plumpness that spoke of perhaps being starved in the past, and now his metabolism was overcompensating. Then there were the scars, which he refused to get rid of. They were constant reminders of the sacrifices he had to make. High, intimidating cheekbones. Thick, dark eyebrows. And that bloody nose!

As he stared disconsolately, he noticed two things. One – he was looking into a mirror. Not just a I-hope-I-don't-have-spinach-in-my-teeth glance – he was actually looking at himself for the first time in years.

Two, his image was slowly fading. He wasn't surprised, really. This mirror was a rare find, an attempt at making another Mirror of Erised. It had a shadow of the Mirror's desire-showing abilities, it wasn't nearly as strong. It couldn't show dead people as they were, for example. It might show them, but only as a still frame, perhaps from a memory of whomever was looking into the mirror.

It might, Snape realized, show him looking attractive.

Before he could reprimand himself for such a silly thought (he didn't care! Looks didn't matter!) the mirror had changed. Snape realized with a lurch of his stomach that it showed –

– Ms. Granger. Hermione, rather. He tried out the name in his mind rather uneasily, and found that it tasted delicious. Snape looked back at the mirror after a moment and gazed at Ms. Granger (Hermione!) letting himself revel in quiet contentment for a moment, at least. She was lying on her bed, the window open and making her glow. She was reading, of course (did she ever stop?) and stroking – bloody hell! So that was where Longbottom's blunder had run off to! Snape allowed himself a moment of distraction wondering how you could possibly stroke a liquid – but there is was. One hand held the book open, the other absentmindedly ran fingers down that damn potion, making it turn a pleased shade of blue. As Snape watched, something she was reading made her smile.

His stomach gave another hearty flop, and his heart plummeted.

-------------------------

The fireplace roared green and Dumbledore stepped out into Snape's living room. He saw with some concern the shattered glass on the floor, and the mirror that had nearly been thrown across the room. The elderly man walked swiftly to the mirror, muttering Reparo to the broken glass, and set the mirror back on it's engraved feet.

And noticed the fading image of Miss Hermione Granger. He frowned a little in thought, then decisively spoke a spell and jabbed his wand into the air. In front of him, words formed delicately.

_Severus Snape : Pacing the castle and grounds with utter disregard to civility and decent facial expression. _

Dumbledore chuckled at the spell's odd personality and indignant tone – then sighed in sympathy at Severus's predicament. The lovely phoenix waiting near the fireplace sighed too, a reassuring note.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, of course, you're right. It will all work out in the end. But poor Severus," The phoenix let out a sound that was suspiciously reminiscent of a snigger.

"You terrible thing!" Dumbledore said amusedly to it as they hopped into the fire. "That was most impolite for such a noble bird!"

Fawkes just made another amused noise.

-------------------------

Snape sneered at the dismayed look on Hermione's face.

"That's right, Miss Granger. Your potion is unacceptable. Surely you don't think you're incapable of making a mistake?"

Hermione peered at her potion, obviously baffled. She had done everything right!

Snape sneered yet again. To his amazement, there was something more than just offended pride on her face. Could it be...hurt?

He stepped forward and looked into her cauldron again. Yes, it was almost correct. Scratch that, it was almost perfect. It looked exactly the same as his did when he made it.

"The directions clearly say foaming, not frothing," he said icily. "You receive ninety out of one hundred marks, Miss Granger."

Hermione's mouth opened in shock, and she pushed her way in front of her professor, frowning into her cauldron. Maybe it was a little too dark, but...frothing? Foaming? They were exactly the same thing! Why did he always have to torment her? She admired him so much. Occasionally, she even went low enough to call it a crush. So why did he hate her? Why her, of all people? Did he feel threatened? Jealous? It was all so ridiculous! She felt tears treacherously coming to her eyes.

Snape was having an equally difficult time controlling his feelings. She pushed in front of him, and he took a deep breath to try to control himself. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect, as he took a heady breath of her scent. He had no idea what it was, but it was sensual without being overpowering. And – Merlin – she was so warm...he took an involuntary step backward, but stopped halfway.

_I don't want to step back._

_I have to._

_I really don't want to._

_She's a student. _

He wrenched his body back, almost tripping in the process.

_My God, Severus, this isn't how a Snape isn't supposed to act...this isn't how you are supposed to feel..._

_Don't stand_

_Don't stand so_

_Don't stand so close to me_

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I LOVE MY REVIEWERS! No, really, I do.

Thanks to **Nelys1, ****GeekGoddess1**and**Astaildiarfreak** for the encouragement.

Thanks to **Madelynn Rae, Natsuyori**, and **k8ebug** (hug) for the continued encouragement.

Thanks to **Vickie211** for the in-depth and thoughtful review...fanfic needs more people like you!

Thanks to **Kerichi**, the review goddess. (we're not worthy! we're not worthy!) chuckles I'm working on reading your story. Unfortunately...don't have too much time on my hands. But I AM reading, I swear!

writes furiously to make y'all happy

I'm going trick-or-treating...yay! Going as Trinity. Anyway, I'll try to post another chapter this weekend. Maybe two, I'll have to talk it over with my muse.


	4. Vacations and Other Horrible Things

**Don't Stand So Close To Me**

**Chapter 3**

**Vacations and Other Horrible Things**

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Snape sat at his desk, head in hands. Life was blatantly cruel. Not that he hadn't known this for quite some time, but it seemed all the more so right now. He had never been one to be attracted to women, really. There were more important things, like potions and ... and...and...

Well, like potions. The thought made him cringe. The past week had not been very successful. In fact, it had been an unmitigated disaster. Who knew that a simple Sleeping Draught made by a Potions Master could turn out so horribly wrong? It had taken him an hour to get his skin color back to normal.

She was just a woman! No, worse – she was a girl. And his student!

He sat up suddenly. _Of course!_ Why hadn't he realized? Severus Snape, be attracted to a student of his? It was ridiculous! It had to be a fluke! Clearly, he had made a Longbottom-esque potion, and it had caused him to have this horrible reaction! _I have to get to the library!_

Snape peered blearily at the clock above Madam Pince's desk. Three o'clock and not a hint of success. From what he could find, there was no way that any of the potions he had made before this – this horrible thing – had happened could possibly have turned into any sort of Love Potion. Therefore, he had to assume that he had somehow created an entirely new potion.

He groaned loudly and sat his head on the table with an unpleasant thunk. Most potion mistakes wore off in about a week and a half. It had been a week – about four more days to go, then.

_I can't wait that long!_ he thought in panic. He'd go stark raving mad! And a lunatic Potions Master wasn't helpful at all.

So the next day, he did something he had never thought would happen.

-------------------------

"Severus! Good to see you!" Dumbledore beamed from behind his desk. The man in front of him was swaying slightly in exhaustion – never a good sign. Dumbledore waited for his Potions Professor to speak.

"Albus. I..." Snape grimaced, as though he was truly dreading the words that were about to come out of his mouth. "I'd like to request a few days for a vacation." he managed to get out through gritted teeth. _He is absolutely insufferable_.

Albus's beaming face now resembled a miniature sun.

"Severus! What a wonderful idea! Where are you going?"

"To the Library at West University." he said shortly, still swaying a bit. Dumbledore nodded in interest.

"Well, Severus, I'll make you a Portkey as soon as possible, since I'm sure you have to pack."

Snape nodded, oddly grateful. With the state his was in and the way he had been ruining his potions lately, if he made a Portkey, he's probably end up in America, or some such ghastly place.

-------------------------

It was the end of dinner that night, and Dumbledore stood to make some – _probably cheerful_, Snape thought – announcement. He gazed down at his students happily through his spectacles and cleared his throat. The hall immediately quieted.

"It has come to my attention," he said with mock severity, "that all of you have been far too studious thus far this term. Therefore," he said calmly, "I am imposing a mandatory vacation week." The hall erupted in chatter, and he had to raise a hand to continue speaking.

"It will be exactly a week long – you will be expected back this day next week. There is, of course, a list going around for those of you who would prefer to stay at Hogwarts." Dumbledore conjured this list and sent it zooming over to the Hufflepuff table, where it was grabbed eagerly. He smiled down at the Great Hall.

"I will also send another list around for those of you who would like to use the Floo Network to return home. You will, of course, be required to use the fireplace in your common room, and will be chaperoned. Please see me if you have any questions. Enjoy your week!"

Snape's jaw was practically grazing the floor. He sputtered incoherently, which got him nothing but a strange look from Professor McGonagall.

He couldn't believe it. His minor mistake had given the entire school a vacation! Snape could have slapped himself. _Damn that Albu_s! He _knew_ how much this would have upset Snape!

He fled the noise and – ugh – happiness of the Great Hall, opting for quiet and calm as he packed for his – dare he say it? – _vacation_.

-------------------------

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Snape stiffly, taking the Portkey from Dumbledore's hand. It was a lovely little charm – for this, there was no need for rusty cans and old newspapers.

"Severus," Dumbledore said calmly, "Do try to be careful!"

Snape really, really did not like that twinkle. A twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes meant bad times for Severus Snape. But he nodded and thanked the Headmaster somewhat grudgingly, trying to keep his mind off the fact that he wouldn't see Hermione for a week.

And after that, he wouldn't care!

Albus looked at his watch and nodded, giving Snape a friendly little wave as the Portkey pulled him to his destination.

He whirled along smoothly for a second or two. The better the wizard who made the Portkey, the smoother the ride was. Dumbledore's Portkeys were spectacularly made – Severus landed on his feet gently. He blinked away the small bit of disorientation –

– and panicked.

_This isn't the University Grounds!_ he thought frantically, as he took in his surroundings. The air was hot and a little sticky, making his robes cling to his body and itch unbearably. The sun was beating down, and he was facing many houses in bright pastels or worn browns. He was standing on sand now, not stone. He heard loud sounds behind him, and turned.

Behind him there was a scene out of his worst nightmares.

He realized with dismay that there were hundreds of scantily clad women – and men, though they were not nearly so terrifying to Snape as the women were – laughing and running behind him. They were playing some sort of game, hitting a white ball over a net. They, at least, seemed to be having a good time. Snape dismissed them as a threat.

He looked further.

And further.

And further.

Further out, he could see the bright blue sky, sun burning his pale skin. But he could also see something else. He could see waves crashing into the sand, carrying with them delighted, shrieking children and laughing adults.

Severus Snape, for the first time in his life, was at a beach.

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A/N - Alright, I put this chapter up ASAP, because k8ebug wouldn't stop nagging me. My muse and I are currently having relationship problems, so I don't know how this turned out. As always, be merciless!

By the way, I keep forgetting the disclaimer, damn me.

I do not own Harry Potter, other characters appearing in the Harry Potter books, or the world of Harry Potter, and am unfortunately not on the receiving end of the public's admiration and money. I do this for f-u-n, something that is not usually allowed. snicker


	5. Bikinis!

**Don't Stand So Close To Me**

**Chapter Four**

**Bikinis?!**

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Severus cursed loudly, receiving even more strange looks than he already had. He was racking up quite a total by now. He had finally (reluctantly) removed his robes, showing black silk pants and shirt. This, apparently, was not proper attire for this – this – deplorable place.

He scowled and tried to disapparate for the seventh time.

It still wouldn't work.

_Damn that Albus!_ He should have suspected something when Albus was so bloody cheerful. This horrible man had taken away his productive work time, and turned this into something he knew Snape would hate! Snape growled. What now?

The logical part of his mind answered for him – he had to find a place to stay, first. Then he had to find out exactly where he was. Then he could figure out a way to get back.

But the question was – was this a muggle beach? Were there any wizards here?

He glanced around suspiciously. Knowing Albus, it was probably all muggle! Glaring, he yanked out a handful of Galleons. Snape made sure no one was watching, and jabbed his wand at them. Instantly, his hands were flooded with those strange muggle coins. He conjured a small bag for them, and shoved this into a suitcase. Now to find a hotel.

Right.

A hotel.

One problem. Snape had never booked himself into a muggle hotel. Come to think of it, he had never booked a hotel room at all. He usually stayed at the Three Broomsticks, but that was more like a bar with a few rooms stuck on. Not a real hotel.

And definitely not a real muggle hotel.

Snape gave himself a mental shove. _Stop being such a first-year!_ he scolded, sounding reminiscent of McGonagall. _You're a full-grown wizard. You can handle this! You've faced Death Eaters and unruly students! Surely you can handle muggle tourists!_

He managed to find a hotel without much difficulty. It looked well-kept and classy, so he figure is was a good bet. After all, if he didn't have enough money, he could always transfigure more from his Galleons.

His rising confidence was instantly deflated when he saw the woman sitting behind the front desk. She looked exactly like his old Literature teacher. The one whose class he had almost failed. Whose nose could have sliced carrots. Whose glasses were a sinister copy of Dumbledore's. Who could do four things at once and _still_ know who had bewitched the chalk. And who absolutely, positively had eyes in the back of her head.

His heart rose from his boots when he saw that this woman, at least, was far more interested in his money than in whether he had done his homework.

"Yes, sir, how can I help you?"

Snape, as usual, let not a touch of his apprehension leak onto his features. He put on his I-am-in-control face and smiled back. Which, after being so long out of use, was rather painful.

"Madame, I need a room for about a week." She nodded briskly and started shuffling papers madly. He winced. Was this going to be as painfully difficult as it seemed?

"I'll just need to know your name, and how you'd like to pay," she said competently. "Oh, and what size room you'd like."

"Ah..." Snape's mind worked furiously. How he wanted to pay? How did he want to pay? He wrote his name on the sheet she had handed him and tried to think. How did he want to pay? He decided it was time to risk looking like an idiot.

"I'll pay with this," he said, shoving his muggle money forwards. "And as for the room...a small one, I think, big enough only for myself."

Her eyes widened slightly at the array of money (_was that a bad sign?_) but she nodded anyway.

"Cash, right. Ah...I'll just subtract your total from this, shall I?"

Snape nodded, hoping his impassive air showed confidence instead of cluelessness. The woman took what looked like a very small amount of money from his bag, and handed him two cards and a stack of brochures.

"These are your room keys, here's your room number, and here are some brochures about the hotel and the surrounding area. Breakfast is served from six until ten every morning, by the way. Enjoy your stay!"

Snape thanked her and waited until he was out of her sight to examine what she had given him. The brochures were normal enough – disgustingly perfect scenes of beaches and people with huge grins on their faces. He looked at his room number for a moment. 218A. Right. So...

The A meant...what, exactly? Floor number, he supposed. Alright, so, first floor, room 218. Easy enough.

Or not. Because after about half an hour of searching, he discovered that there was no 218 on the first floor. Although there were a lot of people giving the strangely-dressed man odd looks. Snape decided to try the second floor.

Ah-ha! Here it was – 216, 217A, 217B...218A That wasn't too terrible. Now he just had to unlock the door and –

– wait. Unlock the door with what? It was clearly locked, no amount of shoving made it budge so much as a centimeter. But this was the most oddly shaped key he had ever seen. It was ... flat. In fact, it looked just like an identification card.

After fifteen minutes, the heavy door seemed to be mocking an extremely irritated Severus Snape. He had tried to make it work, he really had. First, he had taken the key-thing and tried to stick it into door in various ways, even attempting to stick it under the door (after which he spent five whole minutes fishing it out, then realized he needn't have bother, since he had a second key.) He had, in a fit of anger, attempted to kick the door open. He was tired, irritated, frustrated, and his foot hurt. But as he glared at his key, he saw something he hadn't before.

The bloody thing had instructions on it.

He growled in his throat, and after a moment, slid the 'key' through the 'lock.' It unlocked and Snape pushed the door open. He pulled his bags inside and surveyed the room. _It isn't a quality wizarding establishment, that's for sure, _he thought_, but it's decent enough._ He sat on his bed for a moment, pondering. Wizard's first job – to fit in with the muggles. With that in mind, he flipped through the brochures and various magazines in the room. One with the huge title of **BEACHWEAR – the beach is where it's at!** caught his eye.

Apparently, the revolting half-lingerie, half-muggle clothing combinations he had seen were called bikinis. And to his utter disgust, it appeared that almost everyone wore him. Loathsome though it was, Snape now knew how to fit in.

Grabbing a pair of socks and an undershirt, he transfigured them to something a bit like those – bikini-things. He copied a particularly horrid floral print onto them, and admired his handiwork. One thing was for sure – they were about as far from robes as you could get. Shuddering, he quickly stripped off his black outfit and pulled on the revolting green-and-pink floral thing. After several attempts, he managed to keep the top in place. But the bottom half –

_Merlin! This is painful! How do they manage to fit in this? It _chafes

He grunted. So. This was what it was like being a muggle vacationer.

He'd take Potions Professor any day.

Sitting down on his bed with a sigh and a wince, he continued flipping through the magazine of women wearing different variations on his outfit.

However, when he got to the back of the magazine, he froze. And turned a color he didn't know he could.

Not a single one of the men in the magazine was wearing a bikini.

With a feeling of overwhelming relief (he didn't have to be seen half-naked in public!) he rid himself of the floral monstrosity and transfigured himself something more like what the men in the magazine were wearing. Which is to say that it was a small bit more covering. But no more dignified.

Massaging his temples, Snape leaned back into the bed. If he didn't find a way to get out of here...

_It was going to be a long, long week_.

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A/N – hope you liked this little tongue-in-cheek chapter! I wanted to make sure there was a bit of fun, because in a few chapters it might get a little dark...and a little inappropriate! chuckle not much, though, because I write for those who appreciate STORIES and PLOTLINES. Like my good friend k8ebug, I encourage you all to report any abuse, such as plagiarism and massive fluff. I'll give out thank-you's next chapter, I promise. Cheers!


	6. The Trouble with Beaches

**Don't Stand So Close to Me**

**Chapter 5**

**The Trouble With Beaches**

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Snape had decided, with utmost reluctance, to enjoy himself.

The main problem with this was that a beach was no place to forget about someone.

For one thing, romance was practically shoved down your throat. Restaurant advertisements showed a couple dining, hands intertwined. Sailing advertisements showed a nearly identical couple laughing happily together. _The boat was probably anchored_, Snape thought sourly.

Being alone walking on the beach didn't help at all. The sand was pleasantly soft – he had unbent enough to go barefoot. After all, no one knew him here. The air was cool and sharply salty, he could taste it. At first, he had found the endless crashing of the waves to be distracting. But it had gradually grown on him, and now it was almost soothing. The oceans persistent roar drowned out some of the lingering screams in the back of his mind.

But not the memories, never the memories.

Snape stepped into the water and winced. His spoiled feet were sensitive to the saline water – it stung, but still felt invigorating. He could now almost see the sun on the horizon.

As he waded, he let his mind relax for the first time in years. Yes, he was still alert – that would never leave. But no one was demanding anything of him. No lives depended on how well he did. No students were there to gripe about him. No one had any expectations of him that he had to fulfill.

It was freeing. It was frightening.

And here, maybe, he could rid himself of this terrible side-effect of an errant potion!

Snape walked down the beach, so immersed in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the huge rocks jutting out into the sea. They were beautiful in that intimidating way – harsh, unyielding...

Snape left his reverie with an almost audible snap.

There was a girl on top of the rocks, perched comfortably, reading. A girl with her bushy hair pulled back into a knot to keep it from flying in her face. If Snape squinted, he could make out a faint glow from the pages of the book she was reading. And that, if nothing else, convinced him that this was indeed the person he wanted to see last at this point in time.

Hermione Granger flipped the page of her book. She could feel someone watching her, but it was probably just another lonely, desperate guy hoping that she was available. Which she absolutely was not, at least as far as they were concerned. Finally, getting tired of the relentless gaze, she wrenched her eyes from her book in irritation. There, standing below here, was...

Professor Snape?!

In ... a bathing suit?

Though privately, he did look pretty damn good. This image was not going to be very helpful as far as focusing on Potions went. Sure, he didn't have killer muscles. But then again, he did spend most of his time brooding over simmering potions.

Snape had equally disconcerting thoughts running through his mind. They all involved Hermione. In various positions.

Her slim figure made him painfully aware of his physical flaws, particularly the flab he had examined in the mirror earlier. Sure, Hermione's hair was not particularly smooth and silky, but that...that was endearing! His nose was in no way endearing, and didn't even come close to 'cute.' If he ever had the nerve to kiss her he'd probably poke her eye out.

"Professor Snape?" she said hesitantly, sitting up. Some of her hair escaped from its tangle and fell over her face – he just wanted to –

_Severus Snape! Control yourself!_

"Hello, Ms Granger," he said coolly. Or at least, he tried to make his voice chill. He wasn't sure how well it worked.

"I'm simply ecstatic to see that you remember your teachers' names," he said drily. _Oh, Merlin, did she see that my hands are shaking?_

"What, precisely, are you doing out here?" he inquired, perhaps more sharply than he intended to keep the quaver out of his voice. She wasn't dressed like most of the people were – she was wearing a huge shirt over her bathing suit. Snape thanked his lucky stars for this – had she been wearing a bikini and nothing else, it would have been even more difficult to sound normal.

"I'm taking a vacation with my parents," she said rather indignantly. She had that look on her face – the you-ignorant-bastard look she seemed to reserve especially for him. It was terrible. It was disgust and contempt and irritation all rolled into one look and thinly masked. It was...oddly like the looks _he_ gave people. That in itself was almost enough to make him turn tail and run.

_Ahhh! Snape, you ass, you're doing it again!_ the ass in question resolved to not let himself get carried away again. He nodded to Hermione (_Miss Granger!_) and made what would be best called a strategic retreat, repeating the mantra in his head all the while –

_She's a student, Severus, she's a student, she's a student, she's a student..._

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He was no closer to achieving his goal. And he was uncomfortable.

Snape was lying on a towel, on a beach. He had tried to work in his hotel room, but the amorous couple next door was more than a little distracting. Didn't they have any consideration for the rest of the continent, who was forced to listen to their activities?! Not even a bloody soundproof wall worked, because as soon as it kept one couple's racket out, the children in the room on his other side started throwing temper tantrums. He finally gave up and left, hoping that the beach would be more peaceful. It was better, despite the delighted shrieks permeating the air. He had brought along a towel to lie on, and had cast a Cooling Charm over himself. Snape had a pile of books sitting beside him, all with Familiarity Charms on them. It was a particularly useful charm Snape had picked up ages ago; it turned something unusual into something the onlooker expected to see. He imagined muggles looking at his books would see muggle novels or something similar. He had everything worked out perfectly. So he should have been having a relatively successful day.

He definitely was not. For one thing, there was absolutely nothing in these books about how any potion of his could have inadvertently had the effects of a love potion. In fact, from what he had read, it was pretty much impossible. How the bloody hell was he supposed to find out what was going on, then? For the first time, books had failed him. He was at the end of his rope.

He muttered in irritation, cursing fluently in several different languages he had picked up over the years. After a few minutes of this, he relaxed. Obviously, he was getting too worked up about this. Maybe he would just lie here for a bit...

Maybe it was the sun – Snape was a Slytherin, after all, and snakes loved to lie in the sun. Perhaps it was because he had had a long day yesterday. It could even have been that because this place was so blatantly muggle, it didn't invoke his paranoia like most places seemed to.

Whatever the reason, Severus Snape was fast asleep, lying on the beach.

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**A/N**

I'm terribly sorry this one is so short. See, Severus told me he wants to stay on the beach, and I'm trying to make him move his greasy little ass, because I have excellent things planned for him later. But he told me all he wants to do is relax on the beach, because his parents never let him even see the ocean when he was younger, and didn't_ ever_ let him play at the beach...

As I'm sure you can guess, Sev is actually quite petulant with me. Quite the pain in the ass, really.

Snape: (indignantly) I am not!

Grand-Illusion: snorts

Anyway, the point of the matter is that exciting chapters will return as soon as I knock some sense into him. And yes, I know that I promised comments to reviewers...

**Kerichi** – Yes, that occurred to me that Hermione might not look so hot. But for three reasons, she does: 1 – she dances. 2 – to fit the song better. 3 – she's naturally thin feels jealous You an I have similar evil cogs in our minds...that bit about tans is coming up next chapter. It was actually one of my reasons for making him go to a beach. snicker yes, as you can see, I'm dealing with my headstrong characters.

**I'm happy for all of you who reviewed that you loved the Snape-in-a-bikini scene. Glad you enjoyed it!**

Thanks to **Natsuyori** and **Nelys1** for continued support.

**Jenn** – thanks for your encouragement! feels head swell I think we have similar ideas about what makes a good story...I DO try...

**Please don't irritated about chapter length! I write as it comes. If you have an issue with that, take it up with my muse or Sev. **


	7. Kisses Come in All Colors

**Don't Stand So Close to Me**

**Chapter 6**

**Kisses Come in All Colors**

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Snape woke slowly, but years of training had taught him not to move a hair or make any noise until he got his senses together. He almost broke that training, however, when he remembered where he was.

_Bloody hell_, he groused. As he woke, he took in the fact that it was cooler than it had been before, the air had a definite bite to it, and the sun was not so bright against his eyelids. His mostly-accurate internal clock informed him that it had been about four hours since he fell asleep on this godforsaken beach. He realized that he was a little stiff.

He also realized that there was someone watching him. This someone was also lightly touching his shoulder, and smelled like...

Cotton blossoms?

With a huge amount of willpower, he forced himself to sit up quickly, noting absently that his body hurt. He grabbed the girl's wrist as she reached out to touch him again.

"Professor?" He glared at her.

"Yes, Miss Granger? I suppose you have a reason for disturbing my rest?" Did she look concerned? Why would she?

"Er, Professor...have you been out in the sun long?"

Snape frowned. _Nosy girl_. And he really wished she would stop leaning over him like that. It was very distracting. Oh, wait..._bloody hell_! The reason she hadn't stood up was because he was still holding her wrist tightly.

Perhaps Snape was vulnerable to sunstroke, but he certainly did something then that he would not normally do. He gave in to an urge. A ridiculous, dangerous, unnatural urge.

He didn't let go. He kept holding her wrist, though perhaps a little more gently.

_Merlin! What am I doing?_ Snape shook himself mentally. He was vastly disappointed when she tugged her hand away, but it gave him a strange chill as his fingers slid across hers. Wait...she had asked a question!

"Yes, Miss Granger. What is it to you?"

"Well, sir, you appear to have a sunburn. Look at your skin." Hermione said, looking the slightest bit amused. Snape looked down and recoiled in horror. His once-pale skin was a bright tomato red!

"Did you remember to use a spell or potion to protect your skin, Professor?"

Snape was definitely not pleased. His skin was bright red, not to mention the fact that he had just made an idiot of himself in front of Hermione. Snape almost groaned aloud. This vacation idea was a complete and utter disaster. He decided to add insult to injury in favor of less pain. But that didn't mean he had to surrender all of his dignity.

"So what, exactly, would you suggest I do, Miss Granger?" he asked icily. She gave something uncomfortably similar to a smirk and pulled a bottle out of her beach bag.

"This is a potion I made during my second year for sunburn. It'll help. Don't worry, kisses come in all colors."

"Excuse me?" Snape sputtered. _Why's she talking about kisses?!_

Hermione laughed. "It's a muggle children's book I read once, about how it didn't matter what color you were. It was terrible, really, but judging by your skin I think it applies to your predicament. Now hold still, it'll feel better in a moment."

To Snape's shock and dismay, she immediately began smearing the thick, light green potion across his shoulders.

"Miss Granger!" he yelped in surprise. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"I was helping you, seeing as how it works much better when someone else puts it on your back! If you would prefer to be in pain, that's fine with me!" she snapped defensively. Snape winced. He did not like being yelled at by females. The high, screechy voices really got to him. In order to avoid both that and pain (so he told himself) he submitted to her ministrations.

"Fine," he growled, "But quickly, I have things to do." He could almost feel her disbelieving look despite the fact that his back was to her. In fact, she was probably biting back a retort, something along the lines of 'So that's why you were sleeping.' Damn her. She was the one person who was intellectually capable of drawing any sort of conclusion about him, and yet she was the one he was hiding _that same conclusion from. I'm not sure that made sense, Snape thought bemusedly. Merlin!_ Her hands, once again covered in the cool potion, had touched his back again, more hesitantly this time, as though he was about to snap at her again. She rubbed the potion into his skin, and he could feel it soothing his red, burnt skin instantly. As the pain and discomfort receded, he became aware of something else.

He was definitely enjoying the feel of her hands on him.

Snape felt a sick feeling settle in his stomach. What had come over him? This was wrong. All wrong. He shouldn't be enjoying this. Hermione was his student! He had agreed to this bloody vacation to get away from this very problem – to try to get back to normal! _Damn_ that Dumbledore! Snape swallowed hard and closed his eyes. By now, it was impossible to pretend he didn't care. His body wouldn't let him. As her hands slid over his shoulders, he felt himself flush.

_This is all wrong._

He closed his eyes tighter, wishing that this would all go away. He had faced Death Eaters, he had faced Voldemort...but nothing made him turn tail and run like strange emotions did.

Her hands were moving down his back.

_Oh, Merlin._

He opened his eyes a crack and looked down at his hands. They were shaking. As Hermione gently rubbed the potion into his shoulder blades, Snape decided it would be better if his eyes were shut. _If I can't see it, it's not happening_! he thought, somewhat hysterically.

_She's still doing it._

It was all wrong. He shouldn't appreciate this. He felt like the gangly first-year here. It was Hermione who didn't know what was going on. It was him. He was absolutely clueless. She, on the other hand, was completely in control. She probably didn't think a thing of it. She probably did this for her parents and friends. He was like her father – an authority figure, an adult, someone you had to put up with, and wouldn't necessarily choose to.

_But she _did_ choose to!_ the besotted part of his mind argued. _She chose to come over here and help you!_

_That's because she's nice!_ he shot back. _She is a considerate person. She would do this for most people, it can't possibly mean anything to her._

If Snape had seen her, seen how her hands shook, maybe he would have thought differently. If he had heard her conversations late at night with the other Gryffindor girls, maybe he would have known better. But he hadn't, and so he agonized in a way most unlike Severus Snape.

_Oh, Merlin! how far down is she going to go?_ he thought, panicky. Her hands were at his lower back now, still rubbing in small circles. She expertly pressed her palms against him, massaging the potion into his sensitive skin.

She really didn't need to continue. He felt fine now. In fact, he felt better than fine. Adrenaline seeped through his body, making him tingle. It was a feeling he hadn't had for a long time. It was...energy. Not the energy that came in the heat of a battle, or the feeling he had felt after successful missions spying for Dumbledore. This was eagerness, this was intoxicating and delicious, this was....

Over? Snape was rudely interrupted from his reverie by the 'thunk' of Hermione's bottle of potion being thrown back into her beach bag. He thought he let out a sigh, and was immediately mortified at the thought. He couldn't let her know how he had felt – she'd be disgusted. Any decent person would be!

"Well!" she said cheerily, sounding disgustingly like Poppy Pomfrey. "That fixes you right up! I imagine you're feeling much better now, Professor."

"Ah, yes, quite. Thank you, Miss Granger," he said, more stiffly than he intended. Despite that, her face lit up at the thanks he had offered. She smiled a little.

_Oh, Merlin, she's looking at me!_

_Wait. Stop that! You're Professor Snape! Pull it together!_

But as she walked away, Severus Snape, who had faced death, evil, and hell itself, buried his head in his arms.

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I really hope y'all liked this scene. It was difficult, and I'm not completely satisfied with the result. Please be merciless!

Love goes out to:

**KeitaEleven** (Snapes never waltz! ROTFL, now you have that image in my mind, too!);

**Kerichi** (The amorous couple is from personal experience! I was up until three in the morning! No snogging here, but there is a little mm-mm);

**cecelle** (I had my brothers and dad in mind when writing that!);

**Sabrina, Natsuyori, k8ebug, Hello Baby Hello, alliebeme, Artemis Moonclaw**, and **Madelynn Rae** (I'm glad you guys like it! Your encouragement helps so much!)


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